Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
NOAH
The emergency room had been crazy. Thankfully, a quick X-ray showed that I’d have a whopper of a bruise on my kneecap but there’d been no internal damage.
Since then, I’d been on to the team physio (Shelley – less than impressed with my choice of antics) at regular intervals, with a determined strategy to ensure I’d be fit in less than two days’ time.
I didn’t mention the concussion or the fact that I probably shouldn’t be flying.
Flying on Christmas Eve evening was even crazier.
JFK was bedlam, filled with anxious, busy people, pushing and shoving in their desperation to get home for the holidays.
Christmas spirit was in short supply especially with me.
I’d snagged the last seat in first class at an exorbitant price because I just wanted to get home.
Not even the cabin crew wearing jolly Santa hats could improve my mood.
I elevated my leg all the way home but that didn’t stop me brooding and cursing myself.
I could have really screwed my career up.
What if I’d done my ACL – that would have been six months off.
As it was, I didn’t know if I’d be able to play on Boxing Day.
I limped through arrivals at Heathrow on Christmas morning and was immediately faced by a wall of people, excited faces scanning each newcomer with great anticipation. The sight made me doubly aware that I’d be returning to an empty flat without so much as a Christmas tree.
I thought of the tree in Evie’s hotel room.
For the first time I allowed myself to think of her.
She’d be fast asleep. Guilt twisted in my gut, even though I was still furious with myself.
This was for the best. I shouldn’t have allowed her to distract me from my original purpose.
But … she’d be alone. I remembered the gift I’d hidden under the tree.
In a couple of hours, she’d find it. I wondered what she’d think.
I hoped she’d like it and maybe forgive me for not saying goodbye.
But my brain thought otherwise and helpfully supplied me with a slew of memories: Evie’s laughing face, her infectious grin, her mad, morning hair, her slender willowy form and the magic she made on the ice.
Then I spotted the first photographer – or rather he spotted me.
‘Noah! Noah Sanderson!’ The call went up like a wolf to its pack. Suddenly there were a crowd of them around me, snapping away and I remembered why I’d left. I hadn’t missed any of this.
‘Hey, Noah. What do you think of the news about Menzies’ drug use? Did you have any idea?’
‘When were you made aware he was on steroids?’
‘Has he reached out to you?’
‘Are you going to sue?’
The questions rained down on me as thick and fast as hailstones. It seemed as if Todd’s friend had been right. Menzies had been using steroids.
I held my up hands. ‘Merry Christmas, guys. No comment at this time.’
Exactly as promised, the private car was waiting to pick me up, and while the airport might have been busy, the M4 was quiet, and it didn’t take long to drive back to Chelsea.
I looked up at my apartment block, some windows lit up with trees and Christmas lights, others blank, no doubt because the occupants had decamped to spend the festive season elsewhere.
The apartment felt eerily quiet when I stepped through the door.
I’d got used to Evie’s noise and colour.
Everything here, not just the sound, was muted.
I glanced at the sand-coloured sofa, before moving my gaze to the amber-desert walls and the striped ikat rug in shades of pale brown – all chosen by a very expensive interior designer.
Everything was beige. Even my bedroom was dull, containing the full spectrum of pale grey.
I huffed out a dissatisfied sigh and opened my suitcase, sorting through and unpacking. I wondered if I would be one of the only people in London to put the washing machine on today, such was the excitement in my life.
Christmas dinner turned out to be a pizza for one in front of the television watching It’s a Wonderful Life for about the fifteenth time.
Every ten minutes, I’d take a turn around the apartment in an attempt to keep my knee from stiffening up, before reapplying the ice and propping my leg up on a pile of cushions.
At 3pm. I sent a picture of my slightly less swollen knee to the team physio.
My head felt okay, apart from a dull headache and a slight lump on my forehead.
FFS Noah. It’s Christmas Day. No decision can be made until I see you tomorrow. I’ll get to the ground early but I’m not promising anything.
Three o’clock here. Evie was probably awake. Had she opened her presents?
No text from her.
At five I made myself a protein shake and stood in the kitchen, drinking the unappetising sludge.
Lunch time in New York. Evie would be in the Palm Court dining room.
Would she be drinking the Californian Syrah we’d drunk that first night at dinner?
Would she be enjoying her first proper Christmas in years?
And I had no right to ask any of those questions.
I’d told her as much. I regretted it now.
It had been anger and frustration talking.
I’d been too quick to say the words, and she’d done one of those careless shrugs, but this time it suggested maybe she really wasn’t that bothered.
Perhaps if I kept telling myself that, it might finally get through, because otherwise I was going to be full of self-recrimination, wondering if I should have called her from the airport when I’d landed.
Jetlag caught up with me and I fell asleep on the couch falling into a dream world full of Evie.
We were eating Christmas dinner on a boat in the ocean, surrounded by pirate Santas on small bamboo rafts who were tossing stockings out to hungry sharks – and all the while Evie was promising that no harm would come to me if I jumped into the water.
Apparently, the sharks would be much more interested in the contents of the stockings.
I woke with a smile on my face because that was so typical of Evie’s logic, and then I realised I was cold and alone in the dying embers of Christmas Day. It was easily the worst Christmas I’d ever had.
* * *
‘Hey, Sanderson,’ called one of my teammates in the car park, getting out of his Porshe Cayenne. ‘You’re back.’
‘I’m back.’
‘Good to see you, mate.’
I followed him into the underbelly of the stadium for my meeting with the team physio, hoping that my attempts to hide my slight limp were working. All I needed were some strong painkillers and I’d be in business.
‘Let’s take a look, soldier,’ said Shelley, the physio, who, despite being a bare five foot had more strength in her upper arms than a weightlifter. The bruise had come out in peacock glory, a colour palette of purples and dark grey.
‘Ouch. That must have hurt.’
I shrugged, which immediately reminded me of Evie; I’d even picked up her habits. Another good reason to put her on the top shelf at the very back of my mind. Unfortunately, as with all things Evie, she didn’t want to stay there, and I’d already thought about her a dozen times this morning.
‘I presume you didn’t tell Mario that you were ice skating.’
‘What do you think?’
Shelley smirked at me. ‘I think I’ve got me some blackmail material.’ Her quick retort reminded me of Evie. Agh. That damn woman was lodged in my head.
‘I know, bloody stupid. You don’t need to tell me.’
Shelley rolled her eyes. ‘Get over yourself, Sanderson. Shit happens. It’s not a sackable offence.’ She began poking and prodding my leg. Twisting and manipulating the knee.
‘You been icing it.’
I nodded.
Her mouth twisted.
‘I can run on it,’ I said.
‘No,’ she replied, reminding me, despite her diminutive size, of a small tank. Immovable.
‘All I need is a bit of pain relief.’
‘It’s badly bruised. You need an MRI scan to see if the bone is bruised.’
My shoulders sagged. ‘Seriously?’
‘I’ll fix one up for this week. Sorry, Noah, I can’t sign you off as fit to play yet.’
* * *
‘So, why aren’t you playing?’ Lara’s drawl came from behind me.
‘Happy Boxing Day to you, too,’ I said, as she took the seat next to me in the Chairman’s box.
‘I flew you back for the game. What happened?’
‘I’m not match-fit.’
‘You told me you were still training in New York.’
I sighed. ‘I went ice skating. Banged my knee. Shelley wants me to have it scanned before I can play again.’
‘No wonder you’re looking so down in the mouth. But at least you’re back in the game. And your rep has been revitalised. Actually, your approval ratings are through the roof.’
‘Approval ratings?’
She laughed. ‘You know what I mean. I had two sponsorship enquiries last week and an endorsement pitch. Free boxer shorts for life, if you want them. People really loved the chemistry with Evie. Good job there. I had no idea you were such a good actor.’
I closed my eyes. ‘I wasn’t acting.’
Her head whipped round to look at me so quickly, I’m surprised she didn’t dislocate her neck. ‘Noah, you dark horse. That’s cool. When’s she back from New York?’
‘I don’t know. It was a thing when I was there. It’s not a thing now.’
‘A thing. You old romantic.’ Lara shook her head. ‘What did you do to fuck it up?’
‘Why do you think I fucked it up?’
She scrunched up her mouth and looked at me with utter disdain. ‘Of course you did.’
‘There was nothing to fuck up. We got on well, we had fun but long term we’re not compatible.’
‘Not compatible? What are you, a robot? What’s wrong with her? Everyone in social-media land believes you’re the perfect couple. They’re going to be sad you didn’t get your happy ending.’
‘Boo-hoo,’ I said.
‘So, you’re not seeing her again?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a shame. I could have done a lot with that.’
‘Sorry to be so disobliging.’
She snorted. ‘You been reading Jane Austen or something. Seriously, Noah, I sometimes think you need to loosen up a little. When you were with Evie, it looked like the two of you were having a blast. I’ve never seen you look…
’ she clicked her fingers, summoning up the word, ‘carefree. That’s it. Carefree. It was a good look on you.’
It had felt good, too, I thought, picturing Evie with windblown hair on top of the Empire State Building, mischief in her eyes.
That was before … I wouldn’t forget that night in a hurry.
The piano. Her makeshift piano keys. The feel of her body pressed against mine.
The breath caught in my lungs, and I had an involuntary moment of panic. What if I never saw her again?
‘Hey, Lara, how’s my favourite rottweiler?’
The voice of one of the management team snapped me back to the now as he came to sit with us.
I took in a couple of shuddery breaths and let their conversation about transfers and deals wash over me. Evie was no good for me. I had to put her out of my mind. Focus on getting back on the pitch and forget New York.